


Caladwen

by dan1hart1ey



Category: Original Work
Genre: Elves, F/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-09 00:27:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dan1hart1ey/pseuds/dan1hart1ey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Falneicra is home to both mortal and immortal, where differences bred in the mortal become collections of the immortal and greed breeds uncertainty among those most vulnerable. It is a place where greed, fear, and ambition threaten to crumble the unsteady foundation on which the familiar rests. Caladwen has been different all of her life; born in the far East of the Kingdom, her features are unlike any before her. Born with the colouring of winter and the silence of the stars, she speaks where only the mind can hear. </p><p>In a Kingdom where the struggle for power opens the door to chaos, Caladwen finds herself far from the safety of her home, armed with only a strange beauty and an unknown fate.  Unable to harness her true potential, she must rely on companions as strange as she. Together they face an unknown threat lurking over the Kingdom. No longer hidden from those who wish to possess her, Caladwen must unlock the secrets within herself and save those she cares most about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ~Prologue~

**Author's Note:**

> First, a massive thank you to **Autumn Queen** for being the beta for this chapter. Second, this is my first attempt at a novel length work of original fiction. I would like nothing more than to receive reviews with constructive criticism as it really helps the creative process. As there is room for human error, please don't hesitate to let me know if there are any grammatical errors.
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> Pronounciation  
> **
> 
>  
> 
>  **Dramorian (Explosive)** | Drah . More . Ee . Ahn.  
>  **Thalion (Hero)** | Thal . Ee . On  
>  **Locien (Dragon)** | Lock . Ee . Ehn  
>  **Alhöhra** | Al . Yo . Ra  
>  **Falneicra** | Fal . Nai . Kara

**~Prologue~**

As one day shifted into another, the darkness was almost complete save for the silvery tendrils of the moon's light that shimmered off the spring river below. The world slept in silence as the water rushed down into the valley, taking with it the crystal clear run off from the treacherous peaks to the north. It moved along unaware of the violent end it was soon to meet as it crashed over the Maiden Falls with a roar that could shake the Gods themselves. The river would come to an end with barely a notice as the once mighty current was left to lap lazily against the shores of lake Alhöhra; foreshadowing things yet to come.

The shifting of the winter season into the warmer days of spring had once been Dramorian's favourite time of year, but life was a shifting mass of changing variables and few constants. The things he had once loved had been pushed aside to make room for the growing turmoil and corruption boiling beneath the surface of the kingdom, it's own violent end lurking just out of sight. Where he once saw the beginning of new life, he now saw a warmer season to aid the movement of their enemies. Rather than embracing the season, spring had become nothing more than another factor that worked against them. Dramorian stood looking out into the darkness, his eyes holding the full force of his anxiety as he thought of the new concerns that spring might bring with. As the King's second son he was not the heir to the crumbling throne of Falneicra, but he would have had to been a fool not to see the danger brewing. The power of the Kingdom was quickly slipping out of their control. Under the guise of securing his own power, the King unwittingly furthered the deterioration of control. As always, the greed of one bred destruction for all.

It was the sound of light footfalls echoing from the stone stairwell behind him that drew Dramorian from his inner musings and concerns. So fluid were the steps that an individual with lesser training would have missed the sounds. It was a mistake that could cut short a life before the victim was even aware of the danger. It was his training as a soldier that kept his hand on the hilt of his sword, his body taut and ready if the need to defend himself arose. Now was not the time to take chances, particularly for the who opposed his Father's Council.

"Peace, brother."

The words spoken in the smooth tone of his brother's voice eased the tension lurking in Dramorian's muscles. There was no other Elf he trusted more than Thalion. As he stepped from the shadows, Dramorian was once again reminded why his brother so easily earned the respect and admiration of the people. He was built for the role of King and there was no denying it. While Dramorian stood several inches shorter and had significantly less muscle mass, Thalion stood over six feet with broad shoulders. It was not difficult to imagine that the weight of the entire Kingdom could rest on his shoulders and Thalion would bare it without complaint. Even tempered, he was the clam to Dramorian's storm of emotions. The differences between the two brothers had always been a means of gossip amongst the nobles. While Thalion stood the image of his father, Dramorian had the small stature and pale features of his Mother's family. Dressed as Thalion was - General of the King's Army - the stark contrast between the two was more noticeable than ever.

Thalion had only just returned, it seemed, from the errand thrust upon him by their Father. His dark green armour still interlocked securely over his arms and chest, displaying the royal insignia in prefect detail on his breastplate. For months now there had been continuing reports of unknown movement in the southern forests and finally Thalion had been sent to investigate the cause. Further questions had risen when no word regarding Thalion's progress had reached the palace over the course of three weeks. Some had feared the worst.

"Well met, Thalion," stepping forward, Dramorian grasped his brother's outstretched forearm as Thalion, himself, returned the familiar greeting. Between the two of them, there was only the informal greeting between men.

"Well met, indeed, little brother," Thalion responded, his familiarly deep voice echoing out into the night as his dark riding cloak caught the crisp breeze blowing down from the north. Strands of his golden hair caught in the wind and obscured the laughter in his eyes, but not before Dramorian could catch a glimpse. "I barely reach the boundary of the city and already I hear of your interactions with the Council. It seems you've riled them good and well this time, Dramorian."

"They grow bold in your absence," his unwillingness to feel remorse for his previous harsh words was evident in every fiber of his being and every fluctuation of his voice. The matter of the Council was a subject from which Dramorian drew no pleasure. They were like leeches, feeding off the vulnerability and weaknesses of their Father. "The King will not keep them in check. One of these days, Brother, you'll return to find another sitting upon your throne and the heads of our family mounted to walls."

"Locien and the Council are too bold in my presence, let alone when I am out of earshot," Thalion sighed, shooting his brother an exasperated look. They'd had this conversation many a time before and still they were at odds. The matter of the Council was Thalion's battle to win, but Dramorian did not think his brother was doing enough to halt their ever continuing plots for the Throne. "You are too dramatic, brother. Your temper gives too much away too quickly. Be careful you do not gain more of their attention than is wise."

The words held truth in them, but Dramorian brushed them aside with a familiar ease that came only from having heard them uttered before. If there was one thing Dramorian disliked more than the Council, it was being lectured like a child. He was no longer a child and knew much more of the situation than many gave him credit for. Even Thalion, from time to time, underestimated him. "I sincerely doubt you came all the way up here to lecture me, Thalion," he ground out, choosing to let the argument go in favour of news from outside the fortified city walls. "What did you find in the south?"

Dramorian's discontent only fueled Thalion's amusement, a deep chuckle resonating in the short space between them. "Ever the impatient soldier," he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair and smoothing it back away from his eyes. Succumbing to his brother's desire for news, Thalion continued, "We found plenty and yet nothing at all. I return with less than half of the men I left with, more loss than I ever wanted to cause, and not nearly enough of an explanation for it. Whatever takes refugee in the forest was well aware that we were coming and had no qualms with ending out journey before we could reach our target. We have nothing to identify the problem, but the memory of our warriors dying."

"To suffer a loss you had to have been attacked Thalion," Dramorian snapped, exasperated, "How do you not know who was swinging a sword at you."

Thalion's eyes narrowed as they met his and Dramorian fell silent, instantly regretting his poor choice of words. His brother's eyes took responsibility for each elf that had fallen under his command. If he did not know who had slain his soldiers than there was a good reason for it. Thalion did no leave elves to die; he fought beside them. "It is not elves in that forest, Dramorian, nor do I think it was the doings of the Old Ones. There weapons were not carved of steel or bone. It was like fire moving across the grass to strike first at the horses and then smother it's rider until nothing remained but broken bodies. Had I not known better I would have sworn it was magic."

Thalion's head turned sharply toward Thalion at the admission. "There's hasn't been a witch in the Kingdom for centuries. That bloodline is long dead, Thalion, and news of such would not be welcome among the people."

"I am aware of that, Dramorian," Thalion sighed, turning to glance out over the wall, "I am only telling you what I saw. I don't know what it was and, more importantly, I'm not entirely sure how to prepare for whatever it is they're planning - if they're planning anything at all."

"Prepare for what? Surely the forest cannot hide an entire army capable of marching on the kingdom, magic-like weapons or not," he argued, considering the possibility. It didn't make sense. The main portion of the army was stationed outside the city walls. To march on the royal city was ludicrous. "Clearly someone was able to get word to them about your approach. No one in the south knew you were coming, Thalion. It wasn't just a good guess or proper scouting. You don't just happen to stop an entire legion of soldiers and destroy over half their numbers. It was a calculated move from someone with the means to disrupt our plans. You and I both know several individuals capable of such."

"I've thought on that possibility already," Thalion nodded, agreeing with many of the points Dramorian had voiced. There were too many things that could not be written off as mere coincidences. Far too many. "The problem is that we have no proof of treachery and without that we cannot point a finger at any member of the court or Council. If I accuse a member of either without solid evidence it will be too easy to have a quick accusation turned against me. Suspicion amongst the people will not aid me in our battle with the Council."

"You're the heir to the throne and have control of the army!" Dramorian pointed out needlessly, his frustration making his voice raise and carry further than he had intended. There had been a time when such a station had held more meaning within the Palace. "If you're not allowed to ask questions concerning your own safety and that of your soldiers, then who in the name of the Gods can?"

"Questions aren't the problem, Dramorian. It's the accusations that will cause us the most harm. We need to tread very carefully, lest the remainder of our numbers are decimated before we can organize. Eyes need to be turned not only inward, but outward as well. The problem at hand is the possible attack on the kingdom, not the attack on myself. My biggest task is now talking Father into allowing me to spread out our numbers more evenly among the people. The raids in the east are disrupting the trade lines, which does not bode well for us if war is on the horizon. Having those lines cut off will only create an opportunity for first a siege and then an attack. It will do the Kingdom no good if the majority of our forces are stuck at the wall."

Dramorian snorted. Thalion made it sound as though speaking to their Father on such things was like eating a quick meal after a long day's ride. "Good luck trying to pass that through the Council, Thalion. You know they won't allow it, particularly if one of them is behind the trouble rising in the south. It is no coincidence that everything started to crumble the moment Locien gained control over the group of idiots that make up Father's Council."

"Let me worry about the Council, brother. I am still in control of the army and there is little that they can do to taper that control immediately. In order to do so they are going to have to pass an official movement with Father's stamped approval and that will take some time to organize. By the time they can manage it, my plans will already be in motion and the forces sent out. Before they can place the bug in Father's ear, I will have already set one against it. He'll hesitate just long enough for me to accomplish what I need to."

To Dramorian it didn't sound at all like a promising plan, but there was nothing he could say to dissuade his brother from going ahead with it. Dramorian was a soldier. Thalion was the heir to the throne and, ultimately, Dramorian would follow what his brother decided. As frustrated as he was with the lack of an advantage in this plan, he merely sighed, "I do hope you know what you're doing, Thalion."

His earlier thought began to creep back as Thalion spoke his assurance, the sound drifting off on the wind. Trouble was brewing within the Kingdom and there was no definite direction to look. The Council grew bolder within the Palace, an unknown threat hid among the trees in the south, Thalion was speaking of powers long dead, and raids increased in the east. Every instinct he had claimed that all of the kingdom's problems were connected at a single source, but he couldn't see the strings of the puppeteer. What he did know, however, was that his brother had been expected in the south. Someone in close confidence had warned them and done so faster than the army could ride. He would even go so far as to say that whomever it had been, they had not expected Thalion to return. His return would bring questions that would draw dangerously close to discovering the path of the thread - even if Thalion wasn't the one asking the questions. It would be illogical not to secure a victory and allow for loose ends to be followed so easily. The though caused his skin to prickle with nervous energy. With Thalion out of the way, he could only image the damage that would be caused to the Kingdom. Whether or not he wanted to admit it, Thalion was the one piece that needed to be removed.

The sound of an arrow being notched should not have sounded so loud, but Dramorian's thoughts and senses had already shifted to the defensive the moment he'd worked out that someone was trying to ensure his brother's demise. His heightened senses triggered his instincts and his entire body was alert in seconds, all of his training flashing to the forefront of his mind. His eyes flicked away from Thalion, the other elf still caught in the loss of his men, and to the quick glimmer of a sharpened arrowhead over Thalion's shoulder. Even with the sound of the wind and the river below, he could hear the string snap forward, setting loose the arrow. There was little he could do but surge forward, catching Thalion off guard as he used his body to force the other elf off balance and out of the way of danger.

A sickening thud rang out as the arrow hit flesh, mingling with Dramorian's sharp cry of pain as the arrow pierced through his shoulder. It was an arrow meant for his brother, but one Dramorian was pleased to have missed it's intended target. Thalion's angered shout sounded as the thundering footsteps of the Guards surged up the stairwell, responding to the commotion. The second arrow was unheard, but hit him with a force that could only be gained from a long bow at short range; a powerful shot. As it embedded three inches lower than the first, the force of the blow sent him spinning into the low railing, his momentum carrying his bleeding body over the edge and into the freezing current of the river below.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pronunciation**  
>  **Arandur (Steward)** | Are . Ahn . Dur  
>  **Caladwen (Light)** | Kah . Lahd . When  
>  **Castien (Tender)** | Kah . Stee . Ehn  
>  **Dramorian (Explosive)** | Dra . More . Ee . Ahn  
>  **Landion (Broad)** | Lahn . Dee . On  
>  **Locien (Dragon)** | Lock . Ee . Ehn  
>  **Thalion (Hero)** | Thal . Ee . On  
>  **Therredale** | Ther . Ah . Dale

****

~ 001 ~

It wasn't seemly for a young woman to be slinking around in the dark, but neither was it seemly to be sitting among the men as they discussed matters of the Kingdom. It was not her duty as a Merchant's daughter to be concerned with the politics of the royal city or the movement of the King's army. Her duty was to obey her Father and not even her own dear brother had stood up for her when she'd requested to listen. Instead. Landion had ushered her back towards the kitchen where she would prepare food and drink should it be required by the village men that had arrived. His actions only stood to prove that he thought her too delicate for such talk, like some farm girl used to tending the sheep. The men in the house might determine that her actions were inappropriate, but their wives would agree that assuming their gender weak and insensible was the greater of two evils. If those wives did not, well then she was of the personal belief that they should. Her father would not deny her forgiveness no matter how bold her actions were determined to be, of this she was positive. It was this assurance and her sheer curiosity that guided her quiet footsteps as she carefully lifted herself up into the rafter's of her Father's modest home.

When the home had been built, Castien had chosen a location distant from a small village in the far east of the Kingdom named Therredale. He had chosen the location so he could give his family the ability to both be a part of and separate from village life. In his attempt to fend off the temptations of the public and the curiosity of strangers, he had inadvertently offered the village a place to discuss matters of importance away from prying eyes and the attuned ears of those not welcome - minus, of course, his unruly daughter. Castien was well aware that Caladwen's curiosity could not be contained on the best of days, let alone when there was important matters to be discussed. Like her Mother before her, Caladwen refused to be left out of the business of men. It was this knowledge that convinced her he would she would be forgiven her most recent transgression.

It was bothersome to have to climb amongst the rafters, particularly in a heavy skirt, but such was her determination to hear news of the Kingdom. She never travelled, always remaining at home when her Father was called away. She'd seen nothing but the a bit of country side surrounding the village and she longed for anything outside of that boundary, even if it involved the fears of others: fears she was all too familiar with. As raids increased in the area and whispers of something unnamed to the south, she did not wish to remain with limited information. Being ignorant was not a characteristic that would serve her well. Last she had heard, Thalion had taken his men south but there had not been any news since. Had he discovered the cause of the whispers? Was it the Old Ones come to collect the unique and coveted? These were the questions her Father would not look kindly on, yet they were the ones that floated through her mind. It was the answers she desperately wanted to discover and her only option to do so, it seemed, was to sneak quietly along the sturdy beams of oak, the soft footsteps of her bare feet drowned out by the deep and varying voices of the village men below.

"It was a bold attack. Word is that it happened right out in the open, beneath the noses of both of the King's sons and their guards. It does not bode well for the Kingdom, I say, coming so soon after the trouble in the south. The Prince returns on the tail of a great loss and there's now no word on Dramorian's location. Who is to say that arrow was meant for Dramorian?"

"It's not the army they're worried about, is it? It's moving inward. They're not just looting and pillaging anymore, they're going for the throne. I bet you anything the attempt was on Thalion's life, not Dramorian's. He's the important one. I heard Dramorian shoved Thalion out of the way. It wouldn't surprise me at all if it was just a show. The younger boy always did seem like a bit of an upstart. Jealous, I'd say. He would be idly placed for an inside job. Probably staged the whole thing to hide his own guilt."

"Nonsense, Arandur," Caladwen crouched lower, an arm wrapped securely around a support beam as she leaned forward, eager for the smooth and familiar tone of her Father's voice to continue, "you're seeing things deceit where there is none and breeding fear where there should be none. Anyone who has seen the King's sons interact would not speak further on such lies. Dramorian is loyal to Thalion and Thalion alone. That has been clear since the boy first picked up a sword. If the betrayal is coming from within the palace, I do not believe that it's coming from within the royal family. I'd stake a claim on the involvement of the council, if anyone."

"Whether the younger boy is part of royal blood is still up for debate."

It was not something unfamiliar to hear within the Kingdom. The Nobles, bored amongst themselves, often had plenty of time to fabricate rumours and create suspicion for the sheer amusement of watching it spread. Amongst supporters of the King's sons, however, it caused an angry rumble as Caladwen could now see move through the men below her.

"You gossip more than any nursemaid in the city, Arandur."

She watched silently as Arandur stood, his hands flat on the table as he leaned toward her father, an angry expression on his face and equally harsh words on the tip of his tongue. Before those words could be let loose, another Elf spoke up, putting the pending argument on hold. "To pull off something like this right under the nose of the King? That is a bold statement, to be sure. What has the King said on all of this?"

"Nothing. Thalion heads the search for his brother while the King heeds the warnings of the Council. For the moment, they throne is not in danger so he sees to reason to be up in arms. He does not believe the throne can be taken and that is the fault of the Council feeding him lies of grandeur." Castien sighed, pulling his dark eyes away from the confrontation of Arandur and letting them rest on the worn wood of the table in front of him. "Greed will easily make one bold. I would not be surprised if this was not the first action taken to ensure the death of either of the Princes. Things have been turbulent in the Kingdom for several seasons. It is too much of a coincidence not to have one attack tie into another. Though, if Thalion survived an attack in the south as well as an attack in the Palace, the left hand of the enemy doesn't seem to know what the right is up to and that gives us hope."

"It gives the nobility hope," Arandur scoffed, his petty dislike for being ignored quite evident in his stiff movements. "What does it give us? The army will not be concerned with the raiders lurking amongst the villages here in the east. They will be far too occupied with securing the safety of the Prince and the royal city. With Dramorian missing and Thalion dead, the only think that would keep the Council from the Throne is a weak King."

"Are we incapable of defending ourselves? You, yourself, have served in the King's army, Arandur. The skills we learned should not have been so easily forgotten," Castien snapped, holding Arandur's dark gaze with an irritated look of his own, but it did not stop the other elf from continuing the argument.

"Other villages have not been able to defend themselves. What is there to say that we will have a better change? Or do you think that just because the great Castien resides in this village that the danger will pass over us?"

"I am no longer the right hand of the General, Arandur, nor have I been for many years now. You would do well to let that go."

Listening from above as the tensions rose and the topic began to shift away from the happenings of the Kingdom to the politics of her own little corner, Caladwen frowned down toward the group, silently urging them to return to their previous conversation. Too many things had been left without answers and this was the only means for her to collect them. She didn't care about the raiders or Arandur's jealousy. They had both been causing problems in the region for months now. News of such things was old and useless. What had happened to the younger Prince? Had they discovered who was responsible for the attack? What was Thalion planning to do now that there had been two separate incidents where his life had been put in danger? What was Thalion going to do about his brother?

Even as Caladwen's mind flowed with her own answers, the voices from below mingled and rose in volume as neighbours argued with each other over what to do to protect their own families and their interests. The town was one of farmers and merchants. They did not have the means necessary to hold off a fully equipped raiding party, no matter the experience of some. Therredale was not the Royal City and the woman were not as equally skilled with a sword. They could not be considered among those available to defend against attack. Some could brandish a pot quite well, she'd seen it first hand, but even though that worked against intoxicated husbands, it would do little against a group of armed men on horseback.

It was frustrating to sit above them, removed from the conversation of her elders and yet so much apart of it. Many of the men sitting below thought her unintelligent because of her lack of voice, but, unknown to them, she was quite aware of the happenings of the kingdom. She understood the politics of their little town and she was frustrated all the more at the need to hide herself away. Just as she sat in the rafters so sat her personality. Her position aloft was suddenly stifling as the small space within the rafters and the realization of her own limitations crushed down on her: a situation she had no way of correcting. She was different. She'd been different all her life and she couldn't quite understand why that seemed to bother her now. She'd been born not being able to make a sound, her voice silent. Instead, she'd been gifted with unique features and the ability to touch the thoughts of others. Her Father had always insisted that it was a gift, but how could it be a gift when the whispered words of others told her it wasn't. How could it be a gift when she'd been hidden away in order to keep her from being one of the collected? A person's thoughts were their own and were suppose to be safe from the intrusion of others, but they couldn't be safe when all she had to do was reach out to them. A simple touch could unlock their innermost thoughts, leaving them wide open for her to hear. Caladwen made privacy impossible and that was not an ability to be proud of. She was different from everyone else and it didn't matter what happened, for she would never fit in with the rest of the village.

Pivoting on her heels, Caladwen turned to make her way toward the back of the house where she could inch her way back down to the floor out of sight of the others. Thoughts of always being in the background distracted her from her surroundings, blinding her to what was underfoot. Realizing the danger far too late, her foot caught a string of hunting gear that had been hung up in the rafters to keep out of the way. Her heart stopped and she prayed it would settle without incident, but luck was not with her as the cord unwound and she struggled to catch it before it could break free. Even with her quick reaction, the thing cord slipped through her desperately grasping fingers and fell straight toward the table below. As each item hit the hard surface, the deafening crack seemed to echo right through her as it mixed with the surprised shouts of the men, the scrapping of hastily thrown back chairs, and the ringing of sharpened knives being drawn from their holders.

Horror filled her eyes and a rare burst of colour flooded her pale cheeks as all but a single pair of eyes turned heavenward, catching her in a moment of disobedience and awkwardness. Each set of eyes looked at her not as a woman but as a misbehaving child. Seventeen summers she had seen and still she was just a child. For the first time, however, looking down at their angered faces, she felt the part. The only eyes that had not turned toward her belonged to her Father. He didn't have to raise them for her to realize that he had known she was there from the moment she had sneaked into the room. As cleaver as she always thought herself to be, he still remained a step ahead of her.

"Landion, assist her."

He could have shouted it, for all she knew. The disappointment in his voice echoed through her head making her feel even smaller than she already was. He need not say anything else, for she was already shamed. That, however, did not stop her brother from shooting her looks of deep irritation as he moved to do as their Father had commanded. Landion, she knew, would not be pleased about having to leave the gathering in order to help her down from her most recent means of disobedience. She was sure to receive an earful for embarrassing both him and Father in the midst of their fellow men. A reputation was to be had and her presence always seemed to be endangering it. She wanted to argue that it had not been her intention to interrupt the meeting or embarrass them, but that never seemed to appease Landion. The road to misbehaving was paved with her own good intentions.

"I apologize for the interruption, gentleman. My daughter's curiosity is often hard to tame. Shall we cont-"

Her father's voice was lost as the sound of fist pounding on the heavy front door burst through the room. Immediately the tension doubled. No one interrupted these meetings unless their was trouble. Changing directions, Landion turned his attention away from his sister and hurried toward the door. Removing the latch, he swung it open easily and allowed a harried looking youth through. It was a good distance from Therredale to their front door and the messenger looked to have run the entire way, his cheeks red from the effort and his breaths laboured. "Raiders! Approaching from the West! There's thirty or more of them!"

Later, Caladwen would think back on this moment and realize how strange it had been to watch the room settle for a just a moment into a false sense of calm before said calm exploded outward as it was overtaken by a surge of vicious energy. It was both terrifying and awe-inspiring. Their small corner of the Kingdom did not offer much, but it was home to these men and their reaction below only solidified that thought in her mind. They would do what was necessary to protect what they considered theirs; no matter what that entailed.

"Caladwen!"

Her father's raised voice pulled her into motion. His worry would not be for his home or even for himself. His worry would be for her. He had always said that she was the rarest of all his jewels and it was she that he would be most interested in protection. It was because she was different that she had never left the village or ventured too far on her own. What was different was often coveted and feared. He would not allow her to be lost to the Old Ones so easily. He would not let her become a piece in a never ending collection. The reach of the Old Ones stretched too far to offer an easy means to obtain what they wanted. Discretion and earned trust had been the only option and it had worked amongst the villagers. It would not work amongst the raiders. Twisting her skirts into a tight knot at her knees, Caladwen stepped off the edge of the beam and dropped. Her finger caught the smooth wood as she passed, using that to swing herself down to the floor and land beside her Father with practiced easy. Any other day and she would have been scolded for such behaviour, but not now. There was too much at stake.

"You must hurry," he instructed, turning and leading her toward the back of the house where a small staircase would lead her up to where the bedrooms were located. He did not need to motion Landion to follow as he was already in step behind them, "gather your things and take only what you will need. Go out the back and follow the river north until you reach the hunting grounds. Stay out of sight and trust no one along your way."

It was not the first time these words had been uttered. She did not need him to lay out the importance of what she must do. She'd made the journey alone at only seven years old and, continuously, thereafter. It was a measure they took to keep her presence in the region quiet. All knew of Castien's son, but very few outside of the villagers knew of his strange daughter with silver hair and no voice to speak. It was the only means they had to ensure her freedom and she had learned a long time ago to do what she had to do in order to maintain that freedom. Drawing attention to herself would only draw the sort of attention she'd been attempting to avoid all these years.

"Landion, see her to the river."

She would have protested the last instruction, but her father was already moving forward to brush a soft kiss to her forehead. "Stay safe, Cal." The familiar nickname brought a smile to her lips and her protests died before she could make them. It was something only her father and Landion called her and it's use always took the fight from her. She would do as he requested and allow her brother to accompany her, even if she thought it was a waste of his time. He would be of better service to the village for she knew her way to the river well enough.

As Castien turned and headed back towards the front door, Caladwen took to the stairs. Racing upward, she gathered the items she would need for the short trip and slipped into an old outfit of Landion's. It would not be the first time she had donned men's clothing in order to hide her figure, nor would it be the last. The trousers were far less troublesome than the skirts she been wearing previously and would allow her to move with greater speed through the forest. More importantly, with her bright hair covered, it would be far more difficult to identify her in the dark. Her traveling cloak was the last item she grabbed before making her way quickly back down to her waiting brother.

"Out the back," he urged, pushing a bundle of dried fruit, bread, and cheese into her hand. It would be enough to get her through a day or two, in case she could not be retrieved immediately. If time ran longer than that there was plenty of tools at the camp site to hunt small game. The entire ordeal might have been worrying to another, but Caladwen was much too used to such treatment. Her life was not the ordinary sort. What others might find terrifying she faced on a regular basis. This was a large part of her life and she was well adjusted to the ups and downs it brought.

Together, the two of them slipped out the back door and out into the dark, carefully skirting around the back of the barn and disappearing into the trees behind the property. It was not a far distance to the river, but the journey was much easier made in the light of day. The familiar path twisted and turned unexpectedly without the sunlight to guide them. Tripping over roots, Caladwen moved toward the familiar sound of the rushing water until finally she stood upon it's bank. From there she would travel on her own four miles upstream to the family's hunting ground. It was a trip that they had all made at one time or another.

"Stay out of sight," Landion urged needlessly, "I'll come and get you as soon as I can." His concern earned him a teasing smile as she reached out and placed a hand on his arm, letting her thoughts brush his.

Promise?

As much as she tended to irritate him, the two were very close. She loved her brother and he loved her in return. Just as he was concerned for her safety, she worried about his. Raiders were not kind to their captives and she prayed to the Gods that he'd be alright.

"Yes, yes, I promise," he chuckled, moving to give her a brief hug before releasing her and stepping back. "Now go before the Old Ones notice you out here!"

Mention of the Old Ones always sent a cold chill to run up her spin. That truly was the greatest danger for her. Still, she shot her brother a final fond smile before she turned and dashed back into the cover of the trees. With her hair covered and her clothes dark, it was easy to move from shadow to shadow as she followed the rushing current though familiar territory. Her breathing grew more laborious the longer she held the quick pace, but fear of being found out in the open kept her moving forward. While the raiders were occupied with the village, the biggest threat lay in the shadows through which she moved. As the moon rose higher, the more likely it became that she would come into contact with a much more dangerous foe. It was the Old Ones whose power grew during the transition from one day into another. It was the "between" state that had seem many a unique elf disappear, just another piece in a never ending collection of beauty.

With images of hands reaching out for her in the night, Caladwen pressed on, her heart beating hard in her chest and her footsteps growing heavy as her muscles began to protest. She did not slow until she reached the final incline, her movements moving from a run into a steady walk. Her legs trembled from the effort and there was a small stitch in her side, but the small camp was less than a mile away now. Once she crested the hill, she would find the view opening up to reveal the village below in the distance. There she would wait in the small cabin her father had built years before and wait for her brother. There she would be safe until the sun could rise again.

Her safety, however, was dependant on whether or not she made it to the camp; a task that would prove to be harder than she had originally expected. Doubt and fear rose within her as the sound of a snapping twig echoed in the distance behind her. For just a moment the entire forest seemed to hold it's breath and, in that instant, Caladwen could have sworn she'd heard a single exasperated sigh drift out from the trees before all the sound rushed back to her ears. There was someone following her. Desperate not to be caught so close to safety, she pulled together her remaining strength and surged forward, thankful when her tired muscles accepted the sudden burst of adrenaline brought on by her fear.

This time she could not mistake the sound of pursuit. They had lost the element of surprise and had given up the effort of staying quiet. The sound of their footfalls combined with her own, echoing off the trees around her and multiplying to sound like there was a dozen men behind her. Her heart was beating too loudly in her ears to separate the sounds, which left her with only a guess as to how many there actually might be behind her. Did the Old Ones hunt in groups? Like wolves? She didn't know and she would have greatly preferred to never discover the truth of it. She did not want to be hunted like prey. She did not want to be mounted in some living collection.

Reaching out, her fingers finding the trunk of a tree, Caladwen used her momentum to swing herself around the base of the trunk to give her a brief flash of what lay behind her without dangerously slowing her pace. What she saw only pushed her fear higher. Whatever it was, it was alone, but it moved with the fluidity of a shadow as it disappeared behind a tree only to reappear several feet ahead. She'd never seen anything move that quickly and her fear pushed her imagination to create horrible possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last.

Finding an extra burst of strength, Caladwen pushed forward only to suddenly find her path blocked by a dark figure, bright eyes shinning in the darkness around them. A part of her mind realized her mistake even as her feet slid along the forest floor in an attempt to avoid the collision; she was outnumbered. As she struggled to slow her movements, her foot caught a protruding root and pitched her forward into the solid male chest in front of her. The two of them falling in a tangled heap of limps to hit the forest floor with a surprising force that knocked the very breath from her chest. She was not a soldier, but there were certain skills she had been taught in order to defend herself and her mind frantically scrambled to pull that information from her memory. Planting an elbow firmly into the side of her attacker, she rolled to the side, barely registered the irritated grunt caused by the blow. A hand shot out to catch her, fingers catching the end of the scarf that bound her hair and unravelling it as she rolled. Scrambling into a crouch, the scarf fell away and long strands of silver hair fell around her face, highlighting a pale face and startled violet eyes. Her eyes met the surprised grey of her attacker as the pale moon light gave her an unearthly glow in the darkness of the forest.

A moment passed and their gaze remained locked on each other before Caladwen's senses returned. Pushing herself forward once more, she barely took two steps before fingers wrapped around her small ankle and brought her down hard onto her knees. Any pain she might have felt was lost in her panic. Her fingers scrambled against the earth, searching for anything that might aid her. When they wrapped around a fallen tree branch, she reacted immediately, swinging the makeshift weapon with what remained of her strength. A sickening thud as the wood connected with flesh and the immediate release of her ankle announced that she'd hit the mark, but she dared not look back and make sure. Afraid of what she'd see behind her, she scrambled forward toward the safety she knew was just ahead.

Free again, she struggled forward, her process slowed by the sharp pain in her knee and the limp it caused. She was almost there. She could see the break in the trees and the silhouette of the cabin through them. It was right there. All she had to do was make it to the door and she could hide herself inside until her brother could rescue her. She'd lost the bad and cloak she'd brought from the house, having dropped them when she'd hit the ground, but that was the least of her concerns. The chilly night air was nothing in comparison to a possible capture. She just needed to reach safety. Her brother would find her in time and everything would be alright.

Bursting through the tree line and into the camp, she pushed her tired and bruised body toward safety. The sound of pursuit echoed once again at her back, accompanied now by the raised voices echoing off the trees. Caladwen had not intended to stop. She'd intended to run straight for the cabin, only stopping when her back was pressed safely against a closed and barricaded door. As the view opened up before her, the image of her small village was suddenly all that she could see. Painted below her in terrifying detail, she watched as flames licked the sky burning away her home. She stumbled in surprise. The entire village was lost in a haze of red and grey, everything unrecognizable under the blanket of flame and smoke.

No! Father!

Unthinking, her thoughts called out to him in fear as a hand firmly gripped her arm, jerking her away from the ledge she'd been edging toward. She'd made it to the camp. Everything was suppose to be fine. She was suppose to be safe. Her brother would come for her and her small family would continue as they always had; happy and safe from danger. She wasn't suppose to be here, alone in the dark with unknown hands grasping at her.

Let me go! Let go!

In her terror, Caladwen's control slipped. No longer silent, the touch of the individual behind her had her broadcasting her thoughts to every mind around her. With a piercing clarity, her thought screamed through their minds as she struggled, desperate to escape their hold. So lost in her fear she did not realize the release of one hand, nor did she see the hilt of the sword as it was slammed into her temple, shaking her hold on her consciousness. What remained of her strength and energy was smothered by a sharp pain. Her final sight before the darkness took hold of her was her life burning away below her, the heat of the flames and her own tears blurring the image.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pronunciation**  
>  **Caladwen (Light)** | Kah . Lahd . When  
>  **Castien ( Tender)** | Kah . Stee . En  
>  **Daerwen (Great One)** | Dire . When  
>  **Dramorian (Explosive)** | Dra . More . Ee . An  
>  **Dürian (Dark One)** | Doo . Ree . On  
>  **Landion (Broad)** | Lahn . Dee . On

****

~ 002 ~

It was with a sharp pounding in her skull that consciousness slowly returned to Caladwen. Whomever had knocked her unconscious had most certainly not used restraint, or, if they had, had used an amount not worthy of being mentioned. To make matters worse, the ache in her temple seemed to stretch down into her neck and shoulders, bunching the muscles and making them protest to any sort of movement. The rest of her aches were a result of the cold ground with which she lay; its temperature seeping into her as thought trying to use her body heat to warm itself. She wanted desperately to move. She wanted to stand and warm herself, but her father's voice whispered in her mind, telling her to remain still until she could better piece together the situations she had awoken into. With his voice came an urge to remember all the survival traits he'd taught her.

With her senses stretching outward, she found first the aches and pains of her own body before she managed to expand a little further, searching for any sign that she wasn't alone. Feeling the sun on her skin, she knew, at the very least, that she had been unconscious through the night, left to the mercy of either her attackers or the creatures of the forest. Between the two she hoped for the animals, but she could only muster up a small amount of hope. One of her assailants had seen her hair and eyes. It was outrageous to assume that they had simply abandoned her to her fate. At the right price, she could earn an moral-lacking individual a small fortune with the right buyer. It was the reason she'd taken such care to remain out of the public eye. Her father, a merchant himself, had seen many a unique elf slip through the cracks between this world and the one below, gifts from the Old Ones left in their place to appease their grieving loved ones. Those stories had frightened her as a child, but worried her now as an adult. They weren't just stories. She knew well the dangers. Childhood innocence had left her and she would be useful in more ways than she cared to imagine.

Forcing those thoughts aside, she focused on figuring out her surroundings. It didn't take long, thankfully, for the picture to become clear. Finding what she was looking for almost immediately, she became attuned to the low tones of two voices, whispering to each other. One male and one female.

"It's no wonder you have such trouble with woman, Dürian, going around knocking them unconscious like that. The poor thing didn't even see it coming," the voice was soft, but lifted in gentle amusement as the woman teased the other. "You know these country girls aren't like the ones at the academy. They're delicate and you can't just go and beat them upside the head."

"She hit me with a tree branch. There's nothing delicate about that."

Under other circumstances, Caladwen might have found the disdain in the comment amusing, but instead she was caught by the sound of the voice. Unlike his female companion, the man's voice was low and smooth, reminding her instantly of the way they had moved in the shadows the night before, shifting in and out of focus like thin smoke against a dark background. Above that, Caladwen could easily recall the strange grey that had held her own; surprise and curiosity shinning hesitantly as though they were not used to displaying so much emotion. He'd been the one to hit her; in retaliation, she assumed, for the bow she'd dealt him in her attempt to break free of his grasp.

"I think you're just upset that you were bested by a pretty set of eyes," this time a soft, tinkling laughter accompanied the amusement, giving the woman's voice an all new quality. It was a quality that made Caladwen want to listen to her just for the pleasant sound of her voice. It was an odd feeling to have considering her unknown circumstances. "The great Dürian, bested by a woman with a tree branch."

There was no response this time, but even an infant could feel the irritated tension on the air. It instantly caused Caladwen's body to stiffen as it registered a possible threat. Among the continued laughter of the female, there was something else. In a strange else. In a strange way it sounded like a boot crunching against the bark of a tree, but she couldn't be entirely sure. The forest spoke around her, its varying sounds mixing with the woman's laughter and making it difficult to be completely sure of individual sounds.

"She's awake in case you hadn't noticed."

The male voice was different this time. There was disdain clear in its tone, but it was muffled and further away. Was he leaving? Had the woman's comment driven him away? Whatever the cause for the change had been, Caladwen had not the time to decipher it. They were aware that she was awake. How? She didn't know. If they were planning to do anything to her, she would soon discover the extent of their plans. The fact that they had not harmed her yet did nothing to soothe her nervousness.

The fact that only a single set of footsteps moved toward, however, did catch her attention. If the man had truly left, she might yet have a chance to escape. With only one assailant her chances were much better than if she faced both, of that she could be certain. Despite popular belief, she was not just a woman of the countryside. She'd learned how to fight alongside her older brother. She might not be as strong or as quick as Landion, but she could defend herself if the need arose. She had no weapon and she would not be able to out run them, but that did not mean she was beaten just yet. She had failed the night before in good health, she couldn't pretend that her current state would benefit her efforts. Any successful escape would depend on whether or not they had removed her from the camp ground. If the cabin was still in close range, her plan from the previous night might still be salvageable. Even with their quick movements, she might still be able to make it if she had the element of surprise on her side. It was a risky gamble, but it was the only thing she had to go with.

As the light footsteps came to a stop beside her, Caladwen made a quick decision and cracked open her eyes in an attempt to take account of her surroundings. Directly ahead of her rested two dark boots, the size a little larger than her own and the style obviously feminine. Beyond them, the ground continued until it dropped out of her site to be replaced by a blue sky. Her relief was almost tangible. They hadn't moved her. If her memory served her right, the cabin lay roughly twenty feet behind her. It was a manageable distance, even slowed by a limp. The man had still not made his presence known, which left her to assume that he had left or was simply uninterested in her current state. If she was going to attempt any sort of escape she would have to do it now, while she still had an advantage.

Returning her attention to the boots in front of her, she readied herself as the woman's weight shifted onto her toes and she squatted down, bringing the majority of her legs down into Caladwen's view. They were encased in a dark material she couldn't name, a thick strip of what appeared to be dragonhide spiraling up around them. The sight of such material caused Caladwen to pause in confusion. That couldn't be right. The sale of dragonhide had been banned in the kingdom for years. It was extremely difficult to acquire, now found only in markets not endorsed by the King. Whoever this woman was, she was clearly quite familiar with the underbelly of society and, Caladwen was sure that if that was the case, then her and her counterpart would have no trouble at all finding a market for the rarity that Caladwen, herself, presented.

When a hand reached out to turn her over, Caladwen's breath froze in her chest as she reacted instantly, her desire to survive took hold of her fear and shoved it out of her way. In an instant her arm swung up with a speed that surprised even her. Digging her nails into her palm, Caladwen slammed the heel of said palm into the woman's chest, pushing her out of balance and forcing the air from her lungs even as Caladwen's legs swung up and kicked the woman's feet out from under her. Already scrambling to her feet, Caladwen heard the woman's back hit the packed earth. Twisting around, she printed once again toward her last hope of safety. Her left knee slowed her, stiff and sore as it was from her fall in the forest. The slow pace only mounting her desperation to reach the cabin. Ten feet. That was all that kept her from her goal. A mere ten feet.

With her heart pounding loudly in her ears, Caladwen almost missed the return of crunching bark, this time coming from above her. The other man hadn't gone at all. She had been an anxious fool to assume that he had. He was in the trees. Had she had the breath for it, she would have screamed her frustration to the world as the dark clad figure dropped from the branches above, his knees bending just slightly to absorb the impact of his landing with barely a sound. As he straightened, a dangerously sharp blade was extended with perfect balance toward her chest and grey eyes, cold and hard, stopped her in her tracks.

"I don't care who you are. Try that again and I'll run you through."

As disappointment and frustration over took her, Caladwen remained where she was, her gaze holding his. She may be determined, but she wasn't a fool. The tone of his voice and the seriousness on his face told her that he would follow through with his threat if she gave him a reason to. Rather than uselessly fighting an armed man when she, herself, had no weapon, Caladwen did the only thing she could: she returned his glare. It was the first time she really had the chance to take in his appearance and she was slightly startled to find that he did not look like any of the Elves she normally interacted with. Instead of the usual ware of the country Elves, this man was dressed strangely in comparison.

His outfit matched that of the woman's suggesting a uniform. Black boots rose to mid-calf before dark fitted trousers continued upward over slim hips. The same dark material she'd seen on the woman's legs was wrapped over the trousers, once again making her wonder the possibility of dragonhide. Over that a long sleeveless tunic covered his chest, fitting snugly until it reached his waist where it parted and hung loosely down his legs. Around his waist a belt was wrapped from which an empty scabbard now hung, its sword was still an extension of the man's arm, which, she noted, was covered in the same dark material as his legs. Her eyes traveled up the extended arm to a set of strong shoulders, where a dark traveling cloak hung securely. As she continued her upward path, Caladwen found herself staring into stormy grey eyes, the exact replica of the ones she'd looked into the night before. His skin was pale, which only highlighted the strange colour of his eyes and heightened the dark colour of his hair. Unlike the usual tight braid worn by most young men, he had strands of hair hanging down around his face, obscuring his eyes from time to time as the wind rustled them freely. The rest of his hair had been pulled back and tied securely with a length of twisted fabric. It made him look frightening in his difference, particularly when he eyes were lost among the strands of his black hair. Strangely, she thought he could be quite handsome if only his eyes would stop promising death and the scowl faded from his lips.

"A quick little birdie, isn't she?"

Her attention shifted as a small hand reached out and pushed the tip of the blade away from her chest, allowing the female she'd knocked to the ground to step between them. Dressed like her male counterpart, the woman was of slender but had the toned figure of someone used to traversing the forest and wielding a heavy weapon. Her eyes were the exact shade of grey as her counterpart and her features were extremely similar, leading Caladwen to assume a close family connection tied the two together. Sibling, she would guess. Their features were far too close to be cousins.

Rather than the loose strands of hair preferred by her partner, the woman's hair had been pulled back into two thick braids that draped down over her shoulders, stopping just above her bottom rib. What stood out the most to Caladwen, however, was the open emotions in her eyes. Unlike th cold glare of the man behind her, the woman's were actually full of amusement, despite having just been forcefully knocked to the ground.

"Where did you learn that little trick?" the woman asked, reaching up to rub the spot where Caladwen had hit her, "You certainly do not look like you could land such a solid blow. I would have been surprised if you could even lift a sword."

Caladwen couldn't answer. She couldn't give herself away. She knew she'd broadcasted her thoughts the nights before when she'd called out for her father, but there was a chance they hadn't realized what had happened. It was small, but the chance was still there and she wasn't yet willing to let go of it. It didn't matter how friendly this woman seemed to be, the less they knew about her the less they could use against her. She would not willingly subject herself to more danger than she needed to.

Holding her glare and letting her frustration take hold, Caladwen's eyes focused on a spot in the distance, watching them out of her peripheral. She remained tense as the male slipped his sword back into his scabbard with ease before shifting to lean back casually against the trunk of the same tree he'd dropped out of. What had the woman called him? Dürian? As his arms crossed and a bored look settled on his features, her concern over his name was instantly forgotten in the face of his indifference. He could go by 'slug' and she would have only thought that it suited him well. His indifference angered her. Normally, she would have given anything for the both of her captures to have taken no notice of her at all, but after his rather successful attempts to keep her among present company, she found it rather insulting. If she was so boring than why not let her go? Why keep her trapped here?

Without quite realizing it, her glare shifted with her anger, leaving her looking directly at him. Dürian, as he had been called, seemed to notice first and the lazy arch of a perfectly sculpted eyebrow had her internally raging. Never before had she so badly wanted to throw something. Having an older brother, she knew irritation well, but this was something else entirely different. She could all but picture herself picking up one of the many rocks that lay at her feet and hurling it at him, watching as it sailed neatly through the air until it slammed into his irritatingly smug face. It was a delightful image, but one that brought with it a memory she'd ignored until it had been forced back by her anger.

Flicking her eyes upward, she examined his face for a second time. Rather than just taking in the sight of him, she was now looking for something in particular. He had said it himself, she had hit him with the tree branch the night before and the evidence was there. She just needed to find it. Resting just above his dark brow, a small cut peeked out from behind the curtain of his hair, the mark a vivid red against the pale quality of his skin. The sight of it gave her a strong sense of satisfaction. She might not have been able to hit him just then, but she had managed the feat the previous night. As her eyes met his once again, a smug smile stole over her lips, earning her a dark glare in response. She had not bothered to hide her search and he was well aware of what had caused her smile. It was clear to her that he was still quite angry about the blow and that only made Caladwen all the happier. It didn't help to secure her safety, of course, but she couldn't resist thinking that the injury served him right. He was just like any other male she'd encountered; egotistical and petty. Heaven forbid a woman point out an error, or worse, best you.

Her smugness, however, did not last as long as she would have liked. It didn't last long at all, in fact. As his knees bent slightly and his body sank down, she watched as his muscles seemed to coil briefly beneath his skin, as though he was a snake preparing to spring. Caladwen instinctively took a step back, preparing for what she had assumed was an impending attack, but as the tension unfurled he did not spring toward her but up into the branches above, using his hands to swing himself further upward. The speed with which he moved made it difficult for her to follow his process. Half way up, she lost sight of him among the leaves and was left to state after him with a mixture of irritation and awe. Without quite understanding how, she realized that she had just lost that silent battle.

It was a light feminine chuckle that returned her attention back to ground level. Even with the man having returned to his previous spot in the trees, Caladwen still had his female counterpart standing in close proximity to her. She doubted very much that the woman would give up her questioning so easily. "Pay him no mind," she smiled, glancing up briefly into the trees and catching Caladwen off guard once more with her easy amusement, "He isn't very sociable, I'm afraid." She seemed to know the actions of her counterpart quite well, she was stepping out of the way even as she was speaking. Not a moment later a large branch fell to the Earth, having split from the tree with a deafening crack. Caladwen had to move, herself, as the branch slammed into the spot the woman had been standing only a moment before.

"See. Not sociable."

For a moment Caladwen just stared at the fallen branch, her eyes wide and her mind completely unable to find a suitable response to this rather obvious shock. She had no idea what to think. They acted like quarreling siblings but both had the obvious skill and ability to keep her bound to the current situation. She still did not know whether or not they were interested in selling her to the highest bidder or just doing away with her. The male seemed as though he could be a member of any raiding party, but the woman did not. She seemed friendly enough from the stories and she'd heard of raiding parties attacking villages in the area, she didn't particularly fit the role. It was bad enough that Caladwen couldn't be sure of that they intended without feeling the sudden need to watch the tree tips to ensure no more branches were going to strike her down in a fit of petty rivalry. Landion had still not come for her and she could remember clearly the bright flames rising into the air as her beloved home had burned in the distance. She needed to leave. She needed to find them: her father and her brother. She needed to escape her captors.

"You're very strange," the woman continued, breaking Caladwen's inner cycle of worrying thoughts as she circled around her with a hand outstretched and causing Caladwen to duck out of the way as a small hand reached out to touch her pale hair. "With the exception of Dramorian, I've never seen hair coloured so lightly and not even his can claim to be this pale," coming full circle the woman stood in front of her and scrutinized her closely. "The eye colour is unnatural, no question there and Dürian has caught you off guard on three separate occasions and still you haven't made a sound. Not even a gasp."

"She has made a sound, Fool!"

Caladwen froze as the now familiarly sarcastic tone drifted down from the branches above her. She'd hoped they hadn't realized what had happened the night before, but the more the intelligent grey eyes studied her, the more her hope seemed to drift out of her. They'd heard her broadcast her thoughts. It was obvious. He wouldn't have suggested it if they hadn't and now they knew the one thing Caladwen wished they didn't. They knew the one thing that would make her invaluable to the likes of the Old Ones.

"Not a vocal sound, anyway," the woman corrected. "It was as though your thoughts shared space in our minds. An interesting trick for a member of the old world, but impossible for a mere country elf. Impossible even, for those practiced in magic."

A member of the old world? Did they honestly think she belonged in the realm of the Old Ones? How could they believe she was not an Elf? Even with her pale hair and violet eyes she looked the part of an Elf.

"So, which is it? Do you have their blood in your veins or are you simply one of their collective pieces having been let loose from your cage to search out their next acquisition?"

Both possibilities shocked her. The thought of carrying their blood in her veins and being connected to a world which used living, breathing individuals as prizes in some pompous show of power was bad enough, but to be used as a tool to capture others and pull them into such a fate was despicable. Her thought must have shown on her face, for the woman's expression softened slightly at Caladwen's horrified reaction. "Who are you then, if not that which I have mentioned?"

She couldn't sense anything to fear from this woman, outside of the fact that she was a stranger, but still Caladwen remained silent. She was far too used to discretion regarding her abilities. She couldn't simply hand over knowledge of herself to those she did not know, however, she still needed to formulate an answer. Denying them one would not further her position as their prisoner. Rather than the sort of answer they were looking for, Caladwen lifted a hand and pointed in the direction of the village. While her eyes remained on the woman in front of her, her thoughts returned to the distant image of her village burning the night before.

In the light of the day, she turned her eyes to look once more. Now all that remained was a blackened spot on the horizon, wisps of smoke still rising from the ashes and making her heart ache all over again. She might not be willing to share her thoughts, but she could still converse to an extent.

"You're from the village?"

Caladwen nodded her assent, her attention still focused on the distance until Dürian's feet once again hit the dirt with a sound much too soft for his size. Now that she was talking and not attempting to escape, it seemed he was much more interested. Granted, Caladwen was sure he was interested only in what he could learn about the village rather than what he could learn of her.

"There has been word of raiding parties forming much larger groups," he spoke, making his way to look down over the ledge, his dark figure making a stark contrast against the light blue of the sky. "Though burning entire villages wasn't among the report. Seems to contradict the purpose of the raiding. It's burned too quickly for the fire to have been started afterward." He paused there for a long moment, considering the situation and leaving the small group in silence. "It wasn't a raid, I would bet my life on it. They were looking for something in particular."

Caladwen shook her head. That was ridiculous. It had been a raiding party. Why else would anyone attack a village full of farmers and a few choice merchants who dealt only with the products of the kingdom. This man was looking for conspiracies that didn't exit. They had not owned anything worth the effort it would take to accomplish this sort of destruction.

Turning away from the horizon, Dürian faced her again, the sun casting shadows over his pace and preventing her from reading his eyes. "This was the village where General Castien resided, correct?"

To hear her Father's name spoken from his lips was like a blow to the stomach, her worry over her family returning immediately. Had they come because of her father? It had been years since Castien had retired from the King's forces. Caladwen, herself, had only been a few months old when they'd pulled away from the royal city, but that did not mean that he had not been remembered. Castien had been a firm yet kind Father, but had he made enemies as a soldier? It was possible, she supposed. There had been others in the village that had served in the army, but none had held the same rank as her father. Surely, he wasn't the reason for the attention of the raiders.

"Am I correct?" he asked again, urging her to answer with impatience ringing in his tone.

Still unsure of the connection, she nodded and made a motion with her hands to signify that he had been her father. It was probably more than she should have admitted to, but if they knew her father than perhaps they were loyal to the King. Perhaps they would be able to help her find him. It was a slime hope, but a hope that she clung to nonetheless. It was the only thing she had to cling to.

"Castien did not have a daughter," the woman frowned, "only a son. I remember meeting him a few years ago when they'd returned briefly to the palace."

Dürian didn't say anything, but simply watched her closed as she motioned again that Castien was her father, his eyes hard and giving nothing away. If he believed her, Caladwen could not tell. Letting out a breath, she let her hands fall to her sides. She could not find it in herself to blame them for their skepticism. She and her family had gone to great lengths to hide her existence from those who might harm her. The best defense, it had been decided, had been anonymity. When her Mother had died giving birth to her, they'd spread the word that the child had died as well. Her eyes alone had spoke to Castien about the rarity of her features and the dangers she would face as she grew.

"If you are who you claim to be," he continued, his tone indicating that he doubt that very strongly, "answer me this. Has there been any strangers in the village? Anyone seeking Castien's assistance?"

She frowned at the question. A stranger? The village was small and rural. Any visitors they had were known by all. If a resident had not seen the person in question, they had spoken to at least three people who had. It was difficult for anything to go unnoticed in a village like theirs, particularly the arrival of someone unknown. Shaking her head, she wondered who it was they were looking for. As she pondered, bits and pieced of the conversation from the night before began drift back to her and her thoughts made the only connection they could find. Lifting her hands, she made a few motions, phrasing her question so they might understand. Starting with the motion of letting loose an arrow, she finished with a double tap to her left shoulder, asking if it was the younger prince that they were looking for. It would have been easier, admittedly, if she had just allowed her thoughts to touch his, but she still didn't trust them. Just because they knew her father didn't make them friends.

"For a mute, you are rather well informed."

"And well trained," the woman chirped brightly, earning her an exasperated sigh from her counter part. The brief sound instantly triggered something in Caladwen's memory. She was suddenly very much aware that she had, in fact, heard that exact sound the night before when the snapping of a twig had given away from their presence. Images began to filter through her mind, mapping out her first attempt at escape. She could now take a guess as to who had stepped on the twig and having an annoyed facial expression to apply to the sound seemed to cause her amusement and nervousness to boil over, leaving her to struggle with keeping her laughter silent when all it wanted to do was ring out.

"Insane, as well," the men snapped, rolling his eyes. "Perfect!"

Motioning the other woman aside, Caladwen was left alone to pull herself back together, carefully working through her amusement until she could think clearly once again. She was a little embarrassed about her nervous reaction, but given everything that had happened since she'd climb into those rafters the night before, she wasn't all that surprised by it. She may have dressed as a man from time to time and assumed she could do anything her brother could, but it was clear to her now that she wasn't ready to face the world alone. The thought simply terrified her and made her realize all the more that she needed to find her family as quickly as possible.

"I don't trust her" Dürian muttered, his eyes straying from the strange, pale woman he and his sister had discovered the night before. She was off, to say the least. She seemed very much out of the circle of intelligence and yet strangely apart of it. He had never seen features like hers and he did not trust her not to get them into a difficult situation with the Old Ones. It would be an unnecessary and dangerous complication: one that would not benefit their overall objective. "We need to get down to that village before everything that could guide us has been destroyed. We have already wasted enough time chasing her through the woods, Daerwen."

"I do not get the sense that she's lying to us," Daerwen responded, offering her brother an easy shrug. As much as he found the girl irritating, Daerwen considered her an intriguing puzzle that she hadn't yet been able to solve. There was something about the girl that she just couldn't seem to put her finger on. "Perhaps she knows more than she'd told. We should at least return her to the village. Having lived there, she knows the area better than either of us. She will be able to recognize landmarks in their current state."

He grumbled instantly, further irritated by the suggestion. "I highly doubt her significance is worth the amount of extra time it's going to take bringing her back down river."

"Not everyone is you, Dürian. They can't just jump from tree to tree. You should be used to it by now."

The withering look she received only made Daerwen chuckle in response. "You barely know her potential. You heard the same thing I did, brother. I don't know how but her voice was in my head. That along should be enough to keep an eye on her. She might yet prove to be worth the time. If not, we'll leave her at the village. She can't find her own way from there."

As much as he disliked the idea of wasting even more time, he had to admit that some of her points were valid. The fact that this girl seemed to be caught up on the events of the castle, her detail down to how many arrows Dramorian had taken to the shoulder, had him raisin an eyebrow. Even for a retired General, Castien was rural enough for it to take some time to receive guarded details from the Palace. If she knew that much, what else had been circulating ahead of them. Or, more importantly, had she heard the details from the source itself? When they had spotted her slipping into the woods the night before, they'd originally thought that perhaps it had been their target, escaping the notice of the approaching raiders. They had been terribly mistaken, having landed themselves with this wisp of a girl. As it stood, their main objective was still to locate the younger of the King's sons, even if that meant dragging their new irritant along behind them.

"Fine," he sighed, his attention shifting to locate their temporary ward only to find her disappearing into the tree line, "For the love of the Gods!" he snapped, shooting his amused sister another withering glare before taking off after the woman who seemed incapable of staying still. It wasn't that he expected her to get very far, not with the injury to her knee and the pounding, he was sure, that remained in her skull. The problem, however, was her wandering off as she pleased and taking no care to mask the large amount of noise she made as she moved. He had the insistent feeling that she was going to be significant kink in their plans.

Caladwen had barely reached the riverbank before she found Dürian once again standing in her path. Blowing a few strands of her hair from her eyes in exasperation, she leveled yet another glare at him. Her worry over her family making her bolder than she otherwise might have been. Above all else, she really just wished he would stop appearing out of nowhere. It wasn't accomplishing anything other than driving her insane. If he continued she would be very tempted to hit him with another branch and she was sure the look on her face conveyed such thoughts. Perhaps she should have remained frightened, but it was extremely difficult when his counterpart was currently humming quite cheerfully to herself as she strolled past them. It was quite obvious that if they were going to harm her, they would have done so already.

"And just where do you think you're going?"

It was difficult to smother her very real desire to roll her eyes at such a question. Caladwen thought the answer was rather obvious. Where else would she be going? It wasn't as though she was going to go for a simple stroll through the forest, her hair unbound and acting like a beacon to all those who wished to pay attention. Rather than the scornful response she wished to convey to him, she merely lifted a hand and pointed in the direction of the village. She was going home. It was the only hope she had of finding out what had happened to her home. Letting her hand fall back to her side, she moved to step around him only to find him blocking her way again.

"Listen," Dürian snapped, letting his irritation have free reign, "I don't trust you. You lie with too much comfort and the silent act you're displaying isn't worth it's way in salt. You will remain with us until we've determined that you are no longer useful to us and that there is nothing of interest in that village. You will do exactly as we say or I will tie you to the base of a tree and leave you for the beasts. Do I make myself clear?"

She wasn't entirely sure what it was about this elf that made her want to tear her own hair out. She'd met frustrating individuals in the past, but none of them had been able to anger her the way Dürian could with just a few short words. She wanted to rage at him and point out that his contradistinction of himself was starting to irritate her. She was suppose to stay with them because she might be of some use, yet he threatened to leave her tied to a tree. Which was it? Was she useful or not? Why she was even concerned with her usefulness was beyond her comprehension, but coming from someone who had attacked her in the dark, she was willing to forgo the understanding. She really should have just smacked him, but instead she merely nodded, assenting to his conditions.

Holding his suspicious look for a moment longer, Dürian turned and called out, "You can baby sit."

His rather obvious dismissal of her did nothing to soothe the anger she felt towards him. Was it so hard to refrain from rudeness? She managed most of the time, which did not allow for any sympathy toward his own inability to do so. It did terrible things for his personality, but she doubted he particularly cared what others thought of him. So far, he didn't seem the type.

"I'm Daerwen and that's Dürian."

So caught up in glaring after Dürian's retreating form she had not noticed the woman return to her side. Turning her eyes toward the sound of her voice, Caladwen found herself in very different company. Greeted with an amused smile and an extended hand, she was left blinking at the sudden change. She was still ridiculously surprised by the difference between them, Caladwen reached out hesitantly and shook her hand, unsure of whether or not one could suffer from whiplash merely by being confronted by two very different personalities so quickly. She stored away their names, none the less, but did not offer her own. It was difficult enough to speak through hand gestures without attempting to try her hand at explaining her name. Instead, she glanced between the two of them and hooked her fingers together to demonstrate a connection.

Daerwen frowned slightly at the motion, but responded none the less. "I think that motion applied more meaning to the connection than I'm comfortable with, she responded, offering Caladwen another easy smile, "but he's my brother, so it's partially accurate."

The ease with which she offered information about herself roused Caladwen's curiosity. Who were these Elves? They spoke and moved like soldiers, but the did not wear the armour that such a position would dictate. They knew a good deal about what was happening in the kingdom and were quite aware of her Father's location, despite having never been to his home previously. Worse yet, she still had no idea whether trusting them would prove to be beneficial. There was still the possibility, despite the smiles of Daerwen, that they were leading her to her death. If nothing else, she supposed going along with what they wanted would at least get her down into the village without having to worry too much about who or what she might run into. It was the only silver lining she could see for the situation and she was just about willing to accept that.

"I suppose asking your name is out of the question," Daerwen continued, studying her as they moved along and showing her complete disregard for the fact that Caladwen had yet to speak a single word. Their pace was much slower than her brother's but, unlike the other elf, she did not seem to be in such a hurry to reach the village. In fact, her curiosity seemed to get the better of her as Caladwen found herself on the receiving end of a complete - albeit one-sided - interrogation. "Or even how you came to posses such strange features. Do not misunderstand, your pale colouring is quite fetching, but it isn't the colouring of an elf. You look like one, of course, but that's where the similarities end. I wonder if you do have the blood of the Old Ones in your veins, whether or not you are aware of it. It would explain the two of us having heard you in our minds, unless, of course, that wasn't you we were hearing. As far as I know there had not been anyone else in the vicinity, but I suppose the possibility is plausible. There's speculation on the varying abilities of those who carry the blood of the Old Ones. I haven't heard anything about hearing a person's thoughts, however, but most Elves don't go around announcing a mixed bloodline to the general masses, do they? I mean look at the witches? Went flashing around their abilities and ended up dead. The lot of them. Messy business, that was."

Her continued speech had Caladwen's head spinning as question after question was fired at her, leaving her no room to even respond in the limited silence between each question. Knowing that she would not answer, Daerwen had decided that there was no need to wait for a response that would never come. It was like she was simply talking to fill the silence that Caladwen created with her presence. Caladwen, for her part, didn't mind too much, but she sincerely wished the other woman would slow her speech just a little bit. Her head was still aching from Dürian's blow to her temple, which made it very difficult to follow her own thought process as they skirted around tree roots and brush.

Focusing on the distant figure of Dürian ahead of them, Caladwen gritted her teeth against the ache in her temple and in her knee, allowing Daerwen's voice to drift into a soothing blur of words. If she was going to make it back to the village in the company of these elves, she was going to have to find a state of mind that wasn't so bothered by the situation. Four miles had never before seemed so long.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pronunciation**  
>  **Caladwen (Light)** | Kah . Lahd . When  
>  **Castien (Tender)** | Kah . Stee . Ehn  
>  **Daerwen (Great One)** | Dire . When  
>  **Dramorian (Explosive)** | Dra . More . Ee. Ehn  
>  **Dürian (Dark One)** | Doo . Ree . On  
>  **Envinyatar (Healer)** | Ehn . Vin . Ya. Tar  
>  **Fresnia** | Frez . Knee . Ah  
>  **Landion (Broad)** | Lahn . Dee . On

****

~ 003 ~

Sounds of the morning hours were quite distinctive to the sounds found earlier in the day. Birds seemed to chirp a little softer, the rustling of nightly creatures were gradually fading off, and even the hum of the bees seemed lazy. It was a sound much softer than could be found during the rest of the day. Dramorian gradually woke to these sounds. As his hearing returned, so did his other senses. He could feel the rough cotton of the sheets currently draped over him and there was pale sunlight caressing the left side of his face. His thoughts, however, were the last to return, groggy and incoherent. A low groan escaped him as he shifted, a sharp pain starting at his shoulder and running down his arm. Blinking open his eyes, he struggled to see past the light to his surroundings.

"Awake are ye?"

Tensing, Dramorian reached for a sword that was no longer at his hip. His instinct to protect himself shocked his memories into order and he recalled the sharp explosion of pain that had come with not one, but two embedded arrows to his shoulder. The memory pulled his eyes to the wound only to find his shoulder bare and the wounds crudely stitched up.

"My hand is nay as steady as it once was, but it will do ye just fine, lad."

Turning toward the sound of the voice, his eyes landed on an older woman, her long hair tied back into a tight braid with slips of silver amongst the deep brown strands. With pronounced laugh lines and deep wrinkles around her eyes, she did not cut an intimidating figure but Dramorian did not relax immediately. His instincts would not allow it until he was certain that he would find no trouble with this woman.

"Who are you?" he demanded, ignoring the voice within him that told him he was being rude. Now was not the time for niceties, not after what had happened in the palace. "Where am I?"

"Now don't ye fret, I ain' going to hurt ye. Patched ye up, didn' I?" Like any mother before her, she seemed unbothered by Dramorian's gruff behaviour and simply went about what she had intended to do upon entering the small room. As she set the tray she carried on the bedside table, Dramorian found a small meal of fruits and cheese neatly prepared and laid out. "You 'ave been in and out fer days now, mumblin' in yur sleep and such. Pretty nasty wound, ye had. Had to use both hands to pull out the one arrow."

Dramorian could only blink. Where in the world had he ended up? Her accent was not of the city, of that he knew. He could not put a place on it and he could not be certain that she even knew who he was. The clothing he had been wearing when he had fallen had not been the clothing of a prince, but of a soldier. Unlike his brother, Dramorian was not as well known among the small counties of the Kingdom as he normally traveled as a member of the army lost among the legions. If she had, she made no mention and gave no sign of it. She treated him just as she would have treated anyone else in her home and, strangely enough, that soothed some of his distrust for her.

"Where am I?"

"Some place between here and there, a' course," she responded, offering him a smile as she tugged open the curtains on the window and allowing in more of the natural light. "Our own lil' corner of the Kingdom, 'bout a days ride east of Fresnia. Not much out this way but forest and cattle, Ima 'fraid."

Fresnia? It was a three-day ride from the royal city and that was with fresh horses at every stop. How he had managed to travel over a hundred miles submerged in the river without drowning was absurd. He could not have traveled the entire way in the water, it was impossible. He tried to recall what had happened, but other than a few brief glimpses of the woman's face, the only thing he could remember was falling from the tower and the cold rush of the water as it had enveloped him. "Was I near the river?"

"The river?" she asked, turning to give him a strange look. "Nay, you weren't near the water. The boys found ye slumped against a tree. Half dead ye were, blood everywhere. Don't know what ye were doin' out there, but it was no good for ye."

Her response made him frown. He had no recollection of removing himself from the river and he certainly had no memory of walking through the forest. How long had he been moving through the woods before he had slumped down to rest against that tree? More importantly, how could he not remember his movements? His injuries had not been that bad as to cause such memory loss. He had seen soldiers injured far worse and still they had been able to recount every detail of the battle until the moment they had been carried off the field. Such a weakness was almost embarrassing to admit to, particularly for one trained as he was.

"Rest for a lil' longer, lad. The day's chores need seeing to and if ye are up, there be plenty for ye to do. I would take what rest ye can get before I light a fire beneath yer behind." Just as quickly as she had come into the room, the older woman left, leaving Dramorian to blink after her with even more questions flashing through his mind.

Moving over the familiar landscape was not as easy the second time as it had been the first. Despite the light of day aiding them in their travels, Caladwen was finding it hard to keep up. Her head still ached and her knee was stiff and sore, leaving her to limp after Daerwen the best that she could. Sleeping on the cold ground had not helped to soothe her tired muscles and they protested as she stretched them further. Four miles was not a great distance, but coupled by injury, it became a journey that tried the limited functions of her bruised body. Daerwen, herself, was doing what she could to help, but her continued chatter had only proved to aggravate Caladwen's growing headache all the more. The woman had stopped her questioning, having decided that a continuous stream of prattle was a much better option. She spoke of her likes and dislikes for the various vegetation they would passed. She had made comments about the birds. She had even moved on to make comments of her brother. None of which, meant much to Caladwen in her current state.

"You know, he's always been like this? Distance and grouchy. Mother always said he was born with a burr in his tail, entering the world with a deafening scream. He has always been so serious and demanding. You should have seen him when he first entered the academy. It got him into quite a predicament with some of the instructors when he refused to temper his despairing comments. I thought for sure they were going to kick him out. Only thing that saved him was his ability with a sword … well, that and Father's influence at the academy."

Such information was of no use to her and Caladwen couldn't help the small groan that left her lips as words continued to flow from the other woman's. The more they continued in such a manner, the more Caladwen longed to see the remains of her village. Even with only ash remaining, it would be a welcome sight. Her irritation and impatience seemed to be spreading, it seemed. Dürian, himself, must have felt the same way as he was suddenly in front of them, a familiarly dark look on his face. For once, however, his scorn was directed not to her, but to Daerwen. She could not quite hold his anger against him this time, as it was a rather embarrassing situation for him, what with his sister spilling personal details about his life.

"Must you continue to prattle on like that? My life and habits are of no concern to her and are most certainly not an open topic for conversation," he snapped, his hands clenched at his sides as she stared his sister down. In regards to his intimidation, Dürian seemed to be having a rather tough time of it that morning, as his sister only giggled and stepped around him, waving off the warning as though he was just being silly. Caladwen might have found this funny had she not been feeling as exhausted as she currently was. Even her complaints about his continued surly behaviour had been silenced. She simply had no energy to maintain the uncharitable thoughts she had been previously sending in his direction.

She merely blinked back at him when his narrowed eyes shifted from his sister's retreating form to settle on her, taking in the tired look to her face and the slight limp caused by the injury to her knee. Whether she had been expecting to see any sort of remorse within their depths for having caused said injury, she was sorely disappointed as he merely turned away from her and tossed a gruff, "Move faster," casually over his shoulder before following after Daerwen and leaving her to stare after him with her hands clenched at her sides.

She had clearly been mistaken. She did still have some energy left to maintain uncharitable thoughts toward him. There were several, in fact, floating through her thoughts right then. Some of those thoughts were not meant to be spoken by a proper young woman. This, however, did not prevent her from rigorously debating with herself as to whether or not she should allow the words to slip out and touch his mind. Propriety be damned. There was nothing proper about the current situation.

Her unpleasant thoughts did not have the opportunity to break free, as Daerwen's voice floated back to them on the wind. "We're almost upon the village; I'll scout ahead for any remaining raiders!" Dürian's protests to the suggestion died before he could utter them, for his sister was already gone, which left him alone to deal with their new found company. It was a situation that he obviously drew no pleasure from, if the deep scowl on his face was anything to go by. Personally, Caladwen did not think she was so bad of a prisoner. She could have been much worse. She had walked on her own, she had not fought him the entire way, and she was silent. What more did he want? She could not very well bind her own hands and fly after him at whatever speed he dictated.

Turning her back to her stony guard, she took the rare moment as they waited to lower her onto a fallen log. There was at least a few moments to rest while Daerwen scouted the area. She doubted that there would be much left now. The raiders would have nothing to linger for, all the items of value gone; burnt away by the flames. Even now, the scent of smoke teased her nose. It had been growing stronger as they had moved toward where the small village of Therredale had rested only yesterday. As they approached, her fear of seeing the ruined remains of her home grew stronger, for she had no idea of what she would find there. It was a terrifying thought that bred others to follow in its wake. The only comfort she took was in telling herself that her father and brother would have surely been able to escape the flames. It was a thin hope, but it comforted her enough for her to push onward.

Pulling her thoughts from her internal worries, she focused on her current surroundings as her fingers moved to examine her knee. The fall had torn a small hole in the knee of her trousers and the dark colour of the fabric surrounding the area spoke of the blood she had lost. Slipping a finger through the tear, she tugged hard on the fabric, ripping it further to expose more of her pale skin. The sight beneath the bit of fabric was not a pretty one. When she had fallen, she must have landed on a stone as there was a shallow gash running up the side of her knees, the skin around it deeply bruised with flecks of dried blood still clinging to her. Carefully rubbing off some of the blood, she hissed softly as the movement caused a slight pain to throb through her knee. Once they reached the village, she would have to stop to clean it lest it began to fester. If that happened, it would be beyond her skill to look after.

She was about to leave the wound as it was when a canteen of what she assumed contained water was shoved under her nose. Blinking in surprise, her eyes moved up the extended arm until they reached Dürian's stormy eyes. She was hesitant to take the offering, but she reached up none the less and took the canteen from his hand. Nodding her thanks, Caladwen twisted off the cap and moved to raise it to her lips. She would have been fine without the water, but he seemed irritated enough with her. There was no point in driving that irritation higher by declining his offer.

"It's for your knee, idiot," he commented, the sound bored and accompanied with a very obvious roll of his eyes that set Caladwen to flushing with her embarrassment.

How was she to know it was for her knee when he had not said so? It was a water canteen; of course, she was going to think he had meant for her to drink it. It was not as thought he had shown concern for her wound earlier. Turning away from him, Caladwen let her hair fall over her shoulder to create a curtain in which she could hide her burning cheeks. He made her feel like a child and she did not appreciate it. She disliked the feeling of being useless. Doing her best to ignore Dürian's presence all together, she tore the hole in her trousers a little further and slowly poured some of the water over her cut. The slight stinging told her that the canteen did not contain only the water and she flushed further. Drinking such a thing would have been horribly embarrassing.

She had just moved to pour more over the wound when Dürian's hand reached out and caught her wrist, forcing her to bite down hard on her lip to prevent broadcasting her gasp of surprise. "You only need a small amount of Envinyatar. Any more and it will poison the wound. Do they not teach you anything out in these god forsaken hills?" With his other hand, he reached to tug the canteen from her grasp before dropping her wrist once again, the irritated tension thick between them.

Turning her head, she glared at him through the curtain of her hair. His presence was a hard one to tolerate, but she was grateful despite her dislike of him. The power of the healing serum had already begun to work and the pain in her knee had started to recede almost immediately. Unwittingly, he had also given her some information that eased her nervousness just a little bit further. Envinyatar was a hard substance to come by and strictly regulated by the healers in the royal city. The quantities of the serum were limited and only soldiers of the Kingdom had access to a small ration, which was only to be used in dire consequences. To waste it on one who could not be saved, even with the influence of the serum was a crime. It made her ponder further on the identity of these two siblings. They did not dress as regular soldiers and the amount of healing serum in that canteen had not been the limited amount granted to members of the King's army. Dürian's supply was five times that, if not more. Had he stolen it? Had it been given to him freely? The new questions made her thoughts run wild.

As a child, her Father had often told her stories of his time in the royal city and his time as the General of the King's army. She had loved hearing him recall great battles and the stories of other soldiers, but it had always been the stories where he would speak of elite warriors of the Kingdom that she enjoyed the most. He had made them out to be brave warriors and daring heroes that always saved the day. Nevertheless, they were just stories. Even now, she did not believe them and she most certainly did not claim Dürian to be one of the men from her Father's stories. No matter how he had acquired the serum, it certainly was not because he was the elite of some secret band of warriors. If anything, he was a giant pain in the rear.

Reattaching the canteen to the back of his belt, Dürian's eyes shifted away from her, his head turning sharply to stare out into the trees to the west seeing and hearing something that Caladwen, herself, could not. Her own eyes moved to follow the path of his gaze but she could see nothing by trees ahead of them. "Come on, the way is clear," he informed her a moment later as he started forward again. Without so much as a glance back to see if Caladwen was following him, Dürian left her to scramble after him the best she could. His actions left a foul taste in her mouth, but still she remained quiet.

Within a few moments of stumbling after the other elf, Caladwen spotted Daerwen some distance ahead of them. She did not understand how Dürian could possible know that she had returned having found no danger ahead of them. There had been no voices, not even a distinct bird call and the mystery of it frustrated her even more. She, herself, carried her own secret of strange talents, but still their secret ate away at her. Curiosity was something she had always learned to live with, but these two just seemed to bring it out in her with full force. They were a mystery from their clothing choice to their strangely close resemblance.

As Dürian passed he shot his sister a dark look before continuing with which Daerwen merely smiled, not bothered at all by the fact that he was leaving the two behind him. Coming upon the other woman herself, she made the motion of puffing out her chest before rolling her eyes with exasperation. To her surprise the other woman laughed brightly, a sound much appreciated after Dürian's sharp reprimands. Speaking -of sorts - to another woman was a novelty for her. There had not been many women close to her in age within the village. Those that were tended to steer clear of her for fear of drawing the attention of the Old Ones to themselves and she had never been able to blame them for their fears. Instead, she had simply stayed close to home and looked to her family for company.

"I hear you tried to drink the Envinyatar," she smirked, shooting Caladwen a wickedly amused look. As Caladwen's pale cheeks flooded with colour a second time, Daerwen's laughter returned. "Do not let Dürian discourage you too much. We can both tell you that the healing serum is not something you wish to drink. It makes your insides hurt for days. It is not a pleasant experience. Be thankful he warned you rather than allowed you to drink it. He has not been so kind to others."

She blinked in surprise at Daerwen's admission. If Dürian had been kind to her, she was terrified of the moment when he would choose to be cruel. His attitude did not speak of kindness and she honestly wondered if he was capable of feeling anything but irritation and disdain. Her continued thoughts on Dürian's personality, however, were pushed aside as she was left to ponder once more how they were sharing information. Dürian had not spoken when he had passed his sister, which gave them no opportunity to share the story between them. Her embarrassment should still be between only Dürian and herself, yet Daerwen was just as aware of what had happened. Glancing between the two of them, she frowned. Lifting a hand, her fingers brushed her lips before moving outward, symbolizing the flow of sound from her lips and hoping Daerwen would understand the question behind her eyes. Unlike her brother, she seemed much more willing to share information.

Caladwen need not have worried, for Daerwen seemed to be able to understand her just fine with only a few vague hand movements to guide her. "We're twins," she shrugged, the words spoken casually even as the surprise of them caused Caladwen to stumble, eyes wide. "Yup. Can you imagine having to share a womb with the likes of him for an entire eight months? It was torture. I swear it. It's no wonder I was in such a hurry to escape."

"You were a fool then, sister, as you are now! Do not share such details with the unknown!"

Caladwen was not sure how Dürian had managed to return to them so quickly, nor was she overly concerned with it just then. She could not help but move her eyes between the two of them, taking in their familiar features and drawing the truth from the resemblance. How she had been so blind, she would never know. They were of the same soul, of course, they looked alike. Not even Dürian's anger could smother Caladwen's astonishment at the revelation. Twin souls were extremely rare among the elves. Like anything else, there were stories told of them. Some said twins had magical abilities similar to the witches, having stemmed from that bloodline. Others said it was gift granted upon the few by the Old Ones. Others still claimed it to be a curse upon the bloodline, a sign of death and danger as no soul should be split in two. No matter what you believed, it made the two of them even more valuable to the Old Ones than she was. How had they managed to avoid confrontation? How had they managed to attend the academy in the royal city? How had their lives not been disrupted by secrecy and fear as hers had been? A part of her felt cheated of the childhood she had lost, of the friends she could have made had she not always been hiding. She knew her father had done the best he could to protect her, but had there been another way?

She was startled out of her thoughts as Dürian's narrowed eyes were suddenly looking down into her own, warning flashing in their grey depths even before he spoke. "You would do well to remain silent, girl. Share any of the details my sister has stupidly given you and you will wish I had left you for the Old Ones to find." He did not move away after he spoke, remaining within her personal space until she had relented under the heavy weight of his glare and nodded her assent. Silent she would be, as always.

Only when he moved away did she realize her breath had caught in her throat. Releasing it slowly, she glanced back to Daerwen, whose lips had twisted into a wry smile during the exchange. Shrugging her shoulders, she motioned for Caladwen to follow her once again. The trees were thinning out and they would shortly be breaking free into the open, though not even that could pull Caladwen's thoughts from what she had just discovered. Had the stories been right? Were they able to communicate between each other without any words spoken? She had never met anyone who had strange abilities like herself and a part of her desperately wanted to learn more and understand why they had been given these terrible gifts.

Her thoughts derailed from such questions only as they moved out of the tree line and into the small field behind her home. Raising her eyes from the ground where they had been resting, her walk slowed to a stop as she took in the scene before her. Gone was the barn she and her brother used to play in as children. Gone was the home Castien had built for his small family. Gone was the only place in the Kingdom she was familiar with. Heaps of smouldering wood and ash still warm from the flames had replaced her entire world. How could anything have survived the violence of the fire?

As her eyes returned to settle on the crumbling wreckage that had been her home, she pushed forward. It started as a walk but, as her emotions took hold of her, her steps fell faster and faster until she was running toward her home, her ears deaf to the shouts coming from behind her and her heart pounding in her chest. There was plenty of danger still left in the village, but she could not be bothered with concern for her well-being. She had no room left amongst her concern for her family. She desperately craved some sort of proof that they were safe and had escaped harm.

Despite their shouts, she felt no hands reach out in an attempt to stop her. So continue she did, until she was standing among the fallen beams of her father's house and the burnt belongings of her family. Using both her hands and her feet, she began to sift through the remains of the home, moving fallen beams when she could and climbing over those she could not, all the while looking for signs that they had at least escaped the house. There were pots littering the floor, as well as the remains of the hunting gear she had knocked from the ceiling, but nothing she could recognize as the remains of a loved one. Still, she felt no relief. The lack of evidence did not tell her where her family had gone or even if they had survived. She did not know if they were safe. She did not know anything that could be of any use to her. Dürian had been right all along, she was useless. She had relied too heavily on the support of the men in her life and now that she was on her own, she barely knew which way to look. How was she supposed to survive on her own in a world so unfamiliar to her?

Sinking down onto what used to be the floor of the sitting room, she stared blankly at her grey surroundings as hopelessness began to set in. Nothing looked familiar any more. All of the familiarity had been stripped away to leave her thoughts a jumbled mess of questions and concerns. If her father had not remained in the village then where would he have gone? He had not sought out the hunting ground. If he had, she would have surely run into him in on their return to the village. They had made no other arrangements should one of them not return for her, a foolish error in hindsight as she was now without any idea as to where she should go. There were no relatives that she could turn to. There was no family of any kind. Her father had hidden her too well.

She was not sure how long she sat there, lost in her own thoughts. Time had no meaning for her as she let her thoughts run free. When she finally stirred, her legs were stiff from holding her weight and it took her a moment to find her balance. Closing her eyes on the destruction around her, she turned and made her way slowly from the remains of her home and in toward the village. Her hair and face where smudged with ash and her clothes were unrecognizable under the grime, but she barely cared. She could spot the movement of the twins within the rubble of the town and she headed toward them. Unknown they might be, but she had no further plans to run. There was nowhere for her to go.

As she approached, Daerwen offered her a small smile, but Caladwen barely saw it. She came to a stop just short of where the market had once been established. The stone walkways could hardly be seen among the bits of burnt wood and fallen items that littered the way. The raiders had done their job well, it seemed, for nothing she saw was of any value. Their greed had destroyed an entire village and the sheer possibility of that made her head swim. How many villages had they destroyed before they had reached hers? Why had no one bothered to stop them? Where was the King's army as these thieves raided and plundered the eastern lands? Anger slowly bubbled to the surface, as she let those thoughts take hold of her. Where was the protection the King was suppose to offer to his people. Did they matter so little that he could not even spare a few men from his forces? When her Father had spoken of the royal family, he had spoken of them in a positive light, speaking only of their kindness and their courage. It was a courtesy they had not deserved. Castien should have spoken of their disinterest for the people. He should have spoken of their unwillingness to leave their comfortable lives in order to help those who needed it the most. As her anger raged with her, she failed to notice the gradual increase of the wind as it swirled around her, blowing her pale hair across her face and obscuring her rapidly darkening eyes. Like a figure of solid stone, she stood there, unseeing as Daerwen and Dürian continued their search of the village remains, looking for what she did not care to know. Everything of importance to Caladwen was gone, leaving nothing but the shell of a village and the ghostly remains of the people she had grown up knowing.

Just as her anger spiked again, Dürian's voice broke the cyclone of her thoughts and drew her attention to him and way from the sneering face of the King she had been envisioning. Despite having just been rooting through items covered in ash, he looked as clean as he had when he had entered the mess. His face was as closed off as ever, but she could not help but notice the way his eyes never once strayed to look at her. They remained locked on Daerwen as he approached. His hand clenched tightly around an object, but as he passed it to his sister, Caladwen was unable to get a good look at it. It took only a brief moment for Daerwen to glance back up in surprise, the two of them sharing a brief but silent conversation that had Caladwen's heart racing. What had they found? Did they know the reason why this had happened?

Those thoughts faded off as Daerwen turned to look at her, whatever Dürian had handed to her still clutched firmly in her own hand. The look in the other woman's eyes spoke of things Caladwen could not quite understand, but understanding came swiftly as the heavy broach was placed into her own hand. Even blackened by the flames, Caladwen immediately recognized the symbol etched in clear detail. Behind the image of crossed swords sat the white oak of the royal crest. She had seen this broach every day since she was a small child. It was the symbol for the General of the King's army and it was the one her father had always used to pin his riding cloak into place. An image flashed before her eyes, reminding her of the last time she had seen her Father. He had been wearing it, pinned neatly to the left of his collarbone, as he had sent her out into the dark. Fear gripped her then as she belatedly realized what must have happened and her eyes snapped toward the area where Dürian had been searching just minutes before. Pushing past Daerwen, she scrambled over fallen objects as she moved forward, unwilling to believe what had been displayed clearly in the depths of Daerwen's eyes. No. Her father had been the General of the King's army for years. A few raiders and a simple fire could not possibly have defeated him. He could not.

Her assurances were ignored, as there was nothing to change the truth of what had happened. There among the destruction of the market lay a charred figure, resting almost peacefully on the bed of ash surrounding it. Everything in her wanted to scream that it was not her father. She wanted to believe it was some other member of the village, as terrible as that might be. It was difficult, however, to delude herself into thinking that another would been wearing the symbol of honour Castien had so dutifully kept with him all those years after he'd left the city. He had been proud of his involvement and of his service to the King. He would never have parted easily with the small token she now held in her hand, blackened and forever damaged by the heat.

Whatever the twins were doing, it escaped her notice. All she could focus on was what lay right in front of her. Castien was smaller in death than he had been in life and the thought of losing that continuous presence in her own life was a sharp pain that spread quickly through her chest. She wished she could show no weakness in front of Dürian and his sister, but there was nothing to prevent the tears from spilling down her cheeks, her sobs silent around the painful lump in her throat. Not for the first time did she want to scream to the heavens only to be denied the satisfaction. Her voice remained locked within herself, surrounded by a pain born of fear, anger, and loss.

"I think she was telling the truth, Dürian."

The hushed words of his sister pulled Dürian's sharp eyes from the slumped form of their yet unnamed woman. The two of them had remained a good distance away, both unwilling to be a part of the obvious grieving taking place, though Dürian's attention had remained focused on the pale girl. She was a mystery and Dürian had always hated mysteries. They never boded well for him in his experience and their current objective was much too important to be sidelined by some slip of a girl with strange eyes and no voice. He did have to admit, however, her current emotions were honest and he could not sense deceit coming from her. "Or she believes what she speaks," he commented, unwilling to trust the woman completely. Trust was to be earned and not freely given. Even a young girl could be dangerous in the right circumstances. "If Castien had a daughter, it was a secret too well kept. I find it difficult to imagine he would be able to keep her hidden for so long. Travelers alone would have spread news of this girl and her connection to Castien unless, of course, you're claiming that the village itself is isolated from the rest of the Kingdom and the trade routes."

"Of course, I'm not saying that, Dürian," Daerwen scoffed, rolling her eyes at the stupidity of such an accusation. "Look at her, tell me that if she was your daughter you would not do what you could to keep the attention away from her. She would be a polished jewel in the collection of any of the Old Ones and out here that danger is even more present than it is in the city." She reasoned, her gaze briefly returning to the scene in the distance. She could not explain it, but there was just something about the girl that made her want to help and Daerwen was sure it had nothing to do with the girl's recent loss.

"It doesn't matter; she's of no use to us now. She will not speak and we have been robbed the opportunity to speak directly with Castien, himself. Any knowledge he had is lost to us, unless we can locate the son," he sighed, glancing around to the various piles of ash. This was not just the final resting place of Castien. There were others buried within the ash. "And there's nothing to tell us that he too does not lie with his father."

"What do you plan to do then? Just leave her here in this shell of a village?"

Dürian did not have to look at his sister to know she was glaring darkly at him. It was a look he often received and the tone of her voice warned him before he returned his attention to her. "What would you have me do? Carry her all the way back to the royal city and place her in the hands of the King, himself?" he asked, exasperated. "This is not a trip of leisure. We were entrusted to locate the Prince, not rescue strange girls from the woods."

"Dürian, we need to take her with us. I do not know why, but we do. If we leave her here, she'll fall prey to the Old Ones."

"Your heart bleeds for her, I understand, but I will not allow her to jeopardize our objective. She will not-" as Dürian spoke, his eyes had shifted from Daerwen's familiar features to the smaller figure of the girl only to have the remainder of his words silenced, robbed from him as though ghostly fingers had pulled them from his tongue. Still kneeling in the ash, her face fixed toward the remains of the General, the girls figure seemed to glow among the gloom. It was not simply the sun shinning off her pale hair, but her entire body seemed to be alight. Her attention seemed entirely too focused and he watched in stunned silence as a small, pale hand lifted from her side and reached toward the remains. As she did, something within him sprang to life, forcing his body immediately toward her. Whatever it was, his entire being was warning him of the danger her actions would bring if she continued.

Dürian's words and the sudden movement toward him rested far outside of Caladwen's awareness and his warnings remained unheard. Through the blurry curtain of her tears, her attention had shifted to narrow and focus on a single point of the remains. Lost in her grief, she was initially unaware of what she was seeing, but as the tears began to dry, the object became clearer. Resting around the neck of her father was a necklace, its pendant strangely untouched by the heat and flames that had surely engulfed it. Unlike everything else in the vicinity, it had not been damaged. The pendant was a pale crystal in the shape of a droplet, but what caught her attention was not the shimmering surface of the jewel but the strange dark blue liquid that seemed to be moving within it. Despite it being around her Father's neck, Caladwen had never seen it before. Castien was not a vein man and jewellery was not something he indulged in. There were no rings or necklaces within his belongings. The only piece of decoration he had ever worn currently lay tarnished in her hand.

Focused solely on the pendant, the soft glow emanating from her skin went unnoticed just as Dürian's attempts to reach her had. All she could focus on was the movement of liquid within the crystal. Her hand seemed to lift on its own accord and reach toward the gem. It belonged to her, this necklace. She was not sure how she knew, but the need to have it returned to her pulsed strongly within her. Slowly her fingers wrapped around the strange pendant and a sense of calm washed over her. Her pain and grief receded almost immediately and her heart seemed to lift just a little. Tightening her hold, she gave a sharp little tug. Unlike the pendant itself, the cord on which it had been suspended had not survived the heat of the flames and snapped easily. As the chord snapped, Caladwen's mind went blank. It was as though a brilliant light engulfed her, leaving nothing but an endless expanse of white to stretch out in front of her.

The brilliance of it was painful, burning her eyes the more she looked at it and yet she could not tear her eyes away. Just as the pain seemed to spike, her neck burned sharply causing her to cry out. Unable to lift her hands, she struggled to pull away, her attempts unsuccessful as she was held firmly in place by an unknown force. As the pressure continued to build, her struggles grew weaker and her consciousness began to flicker under the onslaught. The burning of her neck continued to grow with every moment and her cries increased as it did. Under the continued stress, her mind took its own protective measures and shut down, drawing her finally into the comfort of darkness.

As her consciousness gave out the pressure that had been building within her broke free. It rushed outward in a wave of energy that pushed everything around her back, including Dürian. With nothing left to hold her upward, Caladwen slumped to the ground, her body now lying where her Father's remains had been just moments before. Beneath the curtain of her hair, a dark symbol was now burned into the side of her neck, marring her pale skin. Whether it was a reminder or a warning remained unclear.


End file.
